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On behalf of the Classic City Collective and the Touchdown Club of Athens, we are thrilled to extend a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity: Plant the next generation of Sanford Stadium hedges!

That's the first line in an email I received last week from The Georgia Bulldog Club, the fundraising arm of the University's athletics department. The catch there is that the so-called once-in-a-lifetime opportunity1 is limited to 32 slots and costs $5,000. Skinflint that I am, even I don't think $5,000 is too big an ask, but I think I will decline the honor, partially because of who would get that money.

I received the email because I have given money to The Bulldog Club's William C. Hartman Fund every year for over two decades in order to be eligible for football season tickets. (Actually, when I started donating, it was called the Georgia Student Education Fund. It was renamed after former fund chairman Hartman died in 2006.2) Hartman Fund money is intended to support all student athlete scholarships, academic support, medical support, and more. I'm certainly okay with all that, and I expect I'll be donating to the Hartman Fund for years to come.

The Touchdown Club of Athens is Hartman adjacent. (Hartman was a founding member.3) It's pretty much a fraternal organization built around a collective love of Georgia football. I certainly don't have any problem with that, though I don't think they need any of my money. Although I also love Georgia football, I've long shared Groucho Marx's rule about not belonging to any club that would have me as a member.

The organization I have qualms about is the Classic City Collective, which by their own admission aims to be a facilitator for "Name, Image, Likeness" (NIL) contracts for University of Georgia athletes. That means, essentially, that they find ways to buy athletes, luring them to Georgia with more lucrative income opportunities than they might find at other schools. Something about that rubs me the wrong way. While I certainly believe that the athletes should share in the millions of dollars the University makes off their hard work, I think there's something unseemly about buying college players. Maybe I'm just an old prude who was raised in a simpler time of "amateur" athletics, but even if that's the way things are done now, it still feels like cheating. I'd personally rather the football team was made up of students who wanted to study at Georgia, not mercenaries playing for the highest bidder, even if that means we only win as often as Vanderbilt.

All that said, it would be disingenuous of me to say that the participation of the Classic City Collective is the only reason I'm politely declining this opportunity. There's also the fact that this fundraiser is about planting hedges. Sorry, but I don't do yard work. If I'm paying $5,000, it better be someone else who is getting their hands dirty.

1 This should be considered a "once-in-a-lifetime" opportunity only if you have the lifespan of an English Bulldog. Even the athletic department admits that the hedges live a maximum of 40 years (georgiadogs.com). And while most of the current hedges were last replaced for the 1996 Olympics, some are only as old as 2001, when the hedges were trampled after rowdy students stormed the field three times in a season. (For the record, the hedges were first installed as a crowd control measure when Sanford Stadium was built in 1929 — when the stadium sat 30,000.)

2 In 2004, the GSEF was briefly renamed the Georgia Education Enhancement Fund (GEEF) before becoming the Hartman Fund. I only mention that here because that timeline is surprisingly difficult to find in a diligent Google search. In the Internet age, it seems no one much cares when exactly the GSEF became the GEEF, and I can't entirely blame them; I was working on campus at the time, and I can't remember the switch either. These days it's all just Hartman, Hartman, Hartman, which I'm sure would make the former UGA football star proud.

3 According to the official public relations arm of the University (news.ugau.edu), the Georgia Student Education Fund (GSEF) was founded in 1946 in part by 23-year-old Bill Hartman — then Wally Butts' backfield coach. However, I have to wonder if they haven't conflated the GSEF with the Touchdown Club. Hartman's obituary and Wikipedia page don't mention founding, only that he was a former chairman of the GSEF beginning in 1960. (I suppose it's possible that the Touchdown Club created the GSEF, so all Touchdown Club founders are also GSEF founders.) I'm sure more information about the origins of the GSEF are hidden in the moldering stacks of the Athens library; maybe one day they'll be more accessible to online armchair detectives.

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The headline at Atlanta's Fox 5 was "Over 850 pounds of crystal meth found in Norcross storage unit." My first thought on reading the article was, "wow, that's a lot of drugs." My second thought was, "how do you dispose of that much meth?" The article didn't say, which if you ask me is a real indictment of the modern clickbait era of journalism.

Left to my own devices, I did what I usually do when I have a question: I googled it.

That was a mistake.

I only write this so that when I am arrested and the DA introduces into evidence my Google search history and social media feeds full of helpful instructions about what I should do with my stash when the cops inevitably come kicking in my door, I can say that it was all because I read a poorly reported news story.

(To save you the same trouble, let me report that the answer appears to be "mix it with bleach." I'm guessing a lot of bleach. I have not yet worked up the courage to google how to dispose of that.)

In addition to "how to dispose of crystal meth," these are some other actual Google searches I made in the last 2 weeks: "who likes licorice," "why am I paying 24% taxes," "life is not all sex and sun lamps," and "green lantern condoms." What can I say? I'm a curious guy.

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I've decided I'm in the market for Peter and the Wolf on CD. It's been recorded many, many times, and I'm not sure which one I want to get. (I don't want to buy them all).

Obviously I grew up familiar with the 1946 Disney version narrated by Sterling Holloway, but the Oscar-winning 2006 stop-motion Polish animation is good, too. I have good childhood memories of attending an Atlanta Symphony Orchestra presentation hosted by Monica Kaufman; I'm sure that one wasn't taped. (Did I ever see it at the Center for Puppetry Arts? I vaguely feel that the answer is yes.)

The only version I have in the house is Weird Al's on cassette tape; it's out of print and prohibitively expensive on the secondhand market. Besides, I think I want something different anyway, something more traditional.

Does anyone within eyeshot have any recommendations? What's your favorite Peter and the Wolf?

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With football season over, one of the things I've been listening to while walking the dogs is the "Family Trips with the Meyers Brothers" podcast in which brothers Seth and Josh Meyers talk to their many, many celebrity friends about (surprise, surprise) trips they've taken with their families.

Yes, I have been very dismissive of podcasts in the past. And yes, I concede that listening to people I don't know talk about their fancy globetrotting is not always quite as endearing as they might think it is. But sometimes I need something in my ears between Louis' rabid barking at passing joggers, and this fits that bill.

Anyway, the point here isn't an endorsement of podcasting (or your judgement of my pastimes), but that I wanted to mention that apparently I have more in common with Seth Meyers than I previously realized.1

By way of explaining why his family calls him "Soofie," he mentioned that as a bookish youth in the 1980s, he frequently dressed in Ocean Pacific apparel when it was at the zenith of its popularity. Seth is only very slightly older than I am, so he was probably wearing OP t-shirts and board shorts in Connecticut about the same time I was in Georgia. I don't know what excuse Seth had for dressing like a fashion victim, but my attire came from my aunt, whom I believe worked sales for OP at the Atlanta Apparel Mart and had samples to spare.

As a result of Seth's beach bum wardrobe, it seems his Yankee friends called nicknamed him "Surfie" (eventually mangled into "Soofie"). Meanwhile, I was saddled with the Mayberry-eque "Opie." On what I am sure is a completely unrelated note, Seth appears to still talk to his childhood friends whereas I definitely do not.

And now, three-and-a-half decades removed from that childhood trauma, Seth's a famous comedian with his own talk show and podcast. And I have a blog! We're like twins!2

1 The Venn diagram intersection between us previously contained only "Caucasian American male," which, frankly, isn't all that exclusionary.

2 Of the Schwarzenegger / DeVito variety; I believe they're called "infernal" twins.

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This time last week, despite winning zero games against teams with winning records, the Miami Dolphins were in position for the first place seed in the AFC, something they hadn't accomplished since 1984. If the Dolphins are the number one seed, they're guaranteed to make it to the first round of the playoffs and not lose for the first time since 2000... because they wouldn't play in the first round. Number one seeds get a free pass into the second round where they'll probably lose against a team with a winning record.

Then, last night on Monday Night Football against the 4-win Tennessee Titans, the Dolphins blew a 14-point lead in the last 4 minutes 34 seconds, something no team had done since 2016.

I've been watching football long enough that 2016 doesn't seem like such a long time. So far as I'm concerned, the Gold Standard for blowing a late game two-score leads remains the 2011 game where brand-new starting quarterback Tim Tebow led the 1-win Denver Broncos to score 15 points in the last 5:05 to eventually win in overtime... over the Miami Dolphins. It was the first time the Broncos had ever won in Miami. That game sparked the movement that would eventually become Tebowmania as he piloted the team to win their division and their first-round playoff game. Remember Tebowing? Yeah, that was the Dolphins' fault.

It is starting to look like 2023 will be yet another year where the Dolphins have a pretty good record heading into December only for the team to lose games they should win and flame out before the playoffs. I'm not mad about it. That's what the Dolphins do. If I wanted a different outcome, I'd cheer for a different team.

It could be worse. I could be an Atlanta Falcons fan.

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Dear Diary,

Today I saw Seth Meyers perform stand-up comedy at Atlanta Symphony Hall. He was *so* funny. I laughed so hard, I spit.

His act was mostly jokes at the expense of his family, especially his wife and kids. There were also bits about the Muppets, the pandemic, weddings, and sports. There was no explicit talk about Late Night, which remains on hiatus during the ongoing writers strike.

I sat in the front of the Logue Left section, which gave a great view of the stage. I had the middle of five seats, but I did not know my seat neighbors. I went alone. So far as I could tell, I was the only person in the whole auditorium who did.

I didn't even ask if any of my friends might want to accompany me. I usually watch late night talk shows alone, so I jumped ahead to the conclusion that I didn't need any company to enjoy this, either. I'm glad to report that I was right.

John Oliver is coming to the Fox Theater later this summer. Since there's no sign that Last Week Tonight will be filming new episodes by then, I might have to go to that, too.

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No one talks about COVID anymore. It must be over, right? Both the Mayor of Atlanta and one of Georgia's Senators are in isolation right now for some other reason then, I suppose.

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Look, maybe we would all be better off if we just stayed home and watched more movies.

45/2054. Once Upon a Time... In Hollywood (2019)
I thought Quentin Tarantino was a genius from the moment I saw Pulp Fiction at Tara Theater in Atlanta in fall 1994, but ever since Inglourious Basterds I've felt he's increasingly interested only in making alt-history torture porn. Once Upon a Time... certainly has more than a little bit of that. However, I think this film transcends that limitation, creating a commentary on modern culture by looking at a time that was no better or worse than today but was infinitely better at crafting its own mythology. In other words, it's a very good film.

46/2055. Schindler's List (1993)
Hey, Randy, I finally watched Schindler's List. You're right, even though Spielberg is up to all his old audience-baiting tricks, it is an amazing movie that should be seen by every living person at least once. (In the first act, I thought, "How could they make this selfish prick into a hero?" And then the movie made me believe. Both the viewer and Oscar Schindler will come to realize that monsters are real.)

47/2056. Encanto (2021)
At last Disney finally embraced the fact that they can no longer write a comprehensible narrative in a children's film and just stopped trying. If colorful characters and catchy songs are enough to entertain you for an hour-and-a-half.... you won't feel the need for me to finish this complete thought.

48/2057. Morgan (2016)
Yeah, I watched this just because it starred Anya Taylor-Joy, and from that goal, it was worth it. That said, it is an otherwise disappointing thriller about the dangers of artificial intelligence that is terrified of exploring *any* of the questions it raises. Keep your expectations very, very low.

49/2058. Cabaret (1972)
I'd never been a fan of Liza Minelli's public persona, so I hadn't seen this film because I expecting I wouldn't like her in it. I was right. I found her character very, very irritating. On the other hand, I also found I could strongly associate the movie's central theme of societal outsiders trying to dance while knowing the world around them was burning. So... mixed bag?

50/2059. Cry Macho (2021)
The naturalistic performances might be the best example of Clint Eastwood's directorial style, but this film is not his best work, mainly because the weak script does not prove enough of a framework to support a bunch of actors standing around being their own, empty selves.

More to come.

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Ah! I remembered what I forgot on Thursday!

I was going to mention that I have now eaten at Wishbone Fried Chicken.

That might seem like a strange thing to say in 2021, considering that the Wishbone Fried Chicken franchise went defunct decades ago.

Who needs a Colonel when you can have a Captain?
"Captain Wishbone" advertisement appearing The Red and Black, November 13, 1969

Wishbone Fried Chicken was founded in 1960 by Atlantic Company, formerly Atlantic Ice and Coal Co. which had been created from a merger of three other companies in 1903 by one Ernest Woodruff, the man who bought Coca-Cola from Asa Candler. After a series of more mergers and name changes, Atlantic Jackson-Atlantic Munford Inc. — ultimately re-named by CEO Dillard Munford in honor of the company president, Dillard Munford — had as many as 102 Wishbone locations being run out of Atlanta in 1971, some of which were located inside Munford's own Majik Market convenience stores. (Franchisee solicitations claim there were 57 total Wishbones franchisees in 8 states in 1973.) After selling out to corporate raiders in 1988, Munford (the company, not the man) was declared bankrupt in 1990, and its assets were liquidated or shuttered. The refrigeration company was spun-off to become Americold, which still exists. Wishbone Fried Chicken doesn't.

But the location just a block off the court square in Newnan, Georgia, on the same lot it has occupied since 1970, perseveres with its original signage and franchise signature triangular potato cakes in pecks and barrels. The store has a rabid local following which always intimidated me, though I can now understand why its fans are so committed. They serve some pretty darn good fried chicken, even if "un-greasy" is not exactly how I would describe it.

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What with plywood going for $85 a 4-by-8 sheet these days coupled with the bad mildewing of last year's Kool-Aid Man (who now has a permanent home screwed to the wall of the garage), I hadn't planned to do any new lawn art this summer.

Then while watching the preliminary Olympic softball games, I got an idea. Finding a leftover scrap of plywood, I put this fella together in world record time (three days from idea to placement):

We still don't know what 'it' is

It's been 25 years since the Atlanta games, and not once in the past decades have I thought to myself "I wonder what Izzy is doing these days?" He's the New Coke of Olympic mascots: remembered mostly for what a terrible mistake it was.

But he'll always remind us of the summer of '96.

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To be continued...

 

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